The Aurelius Empire mourns for the loss of their Emperor.
I, too, mourned—in fact, I mourned quite the heaviest. But I do not want to recall the details. My face has already been ruined with dark circles under my eyes, and a pale complexion—bringing up the events will simply drown me in sorrow once more.
After a long week of his burial, discussions of succession had risen. The topic was heated very quickly, with many people babbling about who would be the new ruler of the nation.
I simply do not care that much about it. I care more about how to raise my daughter.
…Which I haven't named yet. When Gabriel was still here, I rarely saw her. Two days after my birth, I went straight to work on the nation's affairs alongside him—it was a crucial time for the economy.
Everyone refers to her as 'the Princess', so I have accustomed myself to calling her that as well. I don't know what to name her yet—though I do have a lot of them in my mind.
Olivia, Selena, Grace… But they are all too plain.
Sometimes I can't help but wonder what Gabriel would name her.
My train of thought was interrupted as a familiar figure approached me while I walked mindlessly in the castle halls.
A tall figure in the distance, glistening blonde hair shining as the sunlight bounces off of it. His fair skin accentuates his emerald eyes.
André Montague, the second and last son to the Montague family—Gabriel's younger brother.
"Rosalia," he greets, his usual sweet smile plastered on his face. "It's great to see you. How have you been…?"
I stop in my tracks—putting up my usual, formal smile. "I have been… coping," I reply. "I am sorry for your loss, André. It was all so sudden."
"You are also experiencing this loss, Rosalia." He gently puts a hand on my shoulder, his eyes exuding a sense of comfort. "Remember, you are not alone in this. If you need anything, I am always here."
My smile grew wider at his words.
"Thank you, André," I say, sighing. I put my hand on his, squeezing it slightly. "You always know what to say. The same goes for you—I'm here for you, too."
He lifts his finger up to intertwine it with mine—a gesture I am very familiar with. It is not much, but my spirits are slightly lifted by his kindness alone.
"Ah," he added. I remove my hand from his and tilt my head as I listen.
"A meeting is going to be held tomorrow with the council to discuss brother's will. You should join—people are worried for your state."
Of course. The will.
I only hope that Gabriel did not give our child a ridiculous name in that will—although mostly, I just don't want to weep my eyes out every time I call it out. I am a very sentimental person, you see.
And the council. Consisting of the Grand Dukes and Duchesses, and the whole ministry cabinet—I am far too accustomed to them. Some of them didn't like me handling the nation's affairs alongside Gabriel—back then, they thought I should just 'sit still and look pretty', or even worse—accused that my relationship was going downhill because of this. How silly.
But then again, they were going to discuss his will—his last testament in this mortal realm.
Of course I would join.
"I'll be there," I tell André. "Save me the seat beside you, will you?"
He simply laughs. "You didn't have to tell me. You're the Empress."
"I know. I just wanted to make sure."
—
In the blink of an eye, the next day arrived.
Time flies fast when you are out doing God knows what—walking around in the garden, seeing my daughter (which I still haven't named yet). But what I do know, is that she is the most beautiful and energetic child I've ever seen.
But, I must leave her for a while.
I head to the hall with André by my side. The walk was quiet and short, but it was comforting. I didn't need to exchange useless small talk while I was with him.
As we enter the room, numerous people have already gathered. The ministry cabinet, some Grand Dukes and Duchesses I recognize, and a couple of guards stationed outside the door. I head to my seat, smiling at the people I passed through—some gave me warm smiles, while others… Not so much.
The hall was big—not as huge as our ballroom, but it was enough. A fireplace to keep us all warm at the end of the room and a long table in the middle of it. A typical room where meetings take place.
Half an hour went by, and I could finally cease my formalities. Everyone sat in their positions as André stood up from his seat.
"Ladies and gentlemen, our esteemed guests," he starts, and the whole room goes quiet. "We have all gathered here today for the reading of the late Emperor's will. I extend my warm welcome to each of you."
"I am grateful for your presence here today to witness this event. Your presence honors the memory of our late Emperor. Before we proceed, I wish to offer my deepest condolences on the passing of our revered Emperor. We mourn his loss together as a united empire—may he rest in peace, and is accepted by God above."
His servant walks towards him, holding a scroll. He hands it to him, and then André turns to us once more.
"Let us proceed with the reading of the late Emperor's will."
André began reading.
"I, Gabriel Montague; of sound, mind, and body—hereby declare my last will and testament.
I request this will to be made public, for transparency and the orderly continuation of our realm.
First and foremost, the discussion of my upcoming child."
I subconsciously held my breath.
"—Should I pass away before the birth of my child, or before my child has been given a name; I give my wife, the Empress, the sole right of naming them.
If my child is a girl, I decree that she will bear her mother's last name, Adiratna, in addition to any titles or honors bestowed upon her."
Then I let it out. What a relief. It wasn't that strange for a daughter to take the mother's last name—but this is the line to the throne we are talking about. I could tell some of the people in this room wanted to disagree—yet they couldn't. They would be going against the irrevocable words of the late Emperor; there is a law for those who go against it.
André continues his reading. The next minute or two was just about Gabriel's personal wealth distribution among the council and his closest friends. I assume he wanted this to be made public so that the people wouldn't question why their leaders decided to renovate or hold a grand party that needed more funds than usual.
Finally, he was approaching the end of the will. I held on to my dress, ready to leave and meet my daughter again—perhaps I may find a suitable name for her as we would walk through the gardens with her in my hands.
"Lastly, the discussion of my successor.
I appoint—"
Then André stopped. Why did he stop?
This caught my attention immediately. I look towards him as he scans the remaining contents of the will.
The whispers and murmurs began. Who was appointed to the point even André had to take a moment? Was it him himself, and he was just happy? I do not know who else could be chosen besides him. He is the Emperor's direct brother, who else could Gabriel pick?
He clears his throat, takes a deep breath, repeats his words, and resumes them—to say the things I would not have prepared myself for.
"Lastly, the discussion of my successor.
I appoint my beloved wife, Rosalia Adiratna, as my successor to the throne of the Aurelius Empire."
In a split second, I could feel the eyes of everyone in the room.
I, myself, am stunned by his words—I had to blink several times to convince myself that this was not a dream.
"I place my unwavering faith in her hands, as I have witnessed her excellent skill of managing this empire alongside me."
Unlike his previous statement, people were ready to retort. Whispers and murmurs of the council echoed through the hall—most had looks of agreement while some others with disagreement clearly etched onto their faces.
André simply ignores them as he clears his throat once more, and continues on with a resounding voice:
"My decision is absolute; those who oppose will be considered going against the will of the Heavens and will be punished accordingly."
Then everyone was quiet.
I did not care for the next few words that came out of his mouth, or maybe my mind was too full of the fact that I would be ruling over this empire. My ears started buzzing, then it turned into an unbearable ringing noise—my vision getting quite blurry. My breathing picks up its pace, and I hold on to the seat of my chair—on to my soul, as well.
"But what I understand is that you need to live for her. For our people. For me."
"We live to serve, my dear. Maybe God has concluded my duties here, but you need to keep going."
Was this what he meant all this time? How long has he prepared this? When did he write this will? Why me, and not André?
Has this been his intention from the very beginning?
…If my daughter was all grown up already, at least a teenager—I would not have minded. But this?
How will I raise her when I will be just as busy—or even more?
The noise in my ears was painful—but the eyes directed at me hurt more. I need to do something, but what? What should I say? What should I do? These questions circle the core of my brain as if they were taunting me.
But I, Rosalia Adiratna, will not let anyone or anything taunt me.
I take a deep breath and begin to go over the possibilities in my head. Why would Gabriel pick me over André? Obviously—there must be a reason. Is this a trick? A plan to make a fool out of myself? Or is this a message, a warning for me?
One thing is certain—something is wrong.
If I were to object, harsh criticism would come my way anyway. I have no choice but to accept.
I'll find a way to be Empress and raise my daughter at the same time.
—
The reading ended, and I immediately left the room—André wouldn't dare try to stop me. I find my daughter playing in her bedroom before I take her out for a night stroll. My servant, however, isn't really fond of this idea.
"Your Majesty, with all due respect…" she starts, sighing behind me. "It's late. What if you both catch a cold?"
"We'll be fine, Monilla," I tell her, waving my hand in dismissal. "Will you just prepare our coats, please?"
Even with her refusal at first, she couldn't oppose me. She reluctantly went and took our coats, then we went outside.
As we walked out, a breeze of cold air blew through us—the nights were always chilly. With my daughter in my hands, we start our late-night stroll together.
I could tell that Monilla had been used to my mindless walking—it was one of the only things that kept me sane. She's always so persistent in following me, even though I had told her numerous times that she could just rest.
We found the place where I sat when I was evacuated from the castle that day. I sit there once again, the memories coming back to me like a gush of wind.
"The greatest leaders are the most loyal servants."
I look up at the sky, stars scattered across it like glitter sand. A few constellations could be made out from the corner of my eye—Orion, Sagittarius, Cygnus…
I look down at my daughter in my arms. She looks up at me with her big golden eyes, glimmering under the moonlight. Her small hands rest gently on her small body, as she moves her head in wonder.
I hope she is not cold. The layers of her coat seem thick enough. But I still worry. Is this what being a mother feels like? Worrying too much?
But, I like worrying about her. It reminds me that she is still here.
"My sweet, sweet daughter," I whisper, bringing her close to my face. "You are so beautiful. My precious, my everything."
I kiss her forehead gently as if she would break into pieces if I put slightly more pressure on her. She is so fragile, so vulnerable, so… little.
"Can you believe your mother is going to lead this nation?"
I cannot help but shed a few tears.
"You must be strong," I whisper once more, wiping my tears with my hands. "I will raise you to be intelligent, to be kind, but you must not be weak."
I hold her close. Poor baby must be wondering why her mother is crying like this.
I look up to the sky once more, my eyes glassy from tears. My vision is blurry, but when I blink—it all becomes clear. The stars, the constellations…
The constellations. The constellation.
"Athena."
The familiar constellation caught my eye—and for some unexplainable reason, I start smiling. I look at my daughter once more.
"Athena Adiratna," I whisper. "Such a beautiful name."
I did not need to look behind me. In the corner of my vision, I spot Monilla smiling.
I press my forehead gently onto Athena's. I cannot hold back the single drop of tear that escapes my eye.
"May you always be brave and intelligent."